He had walked once the length of the road, and was looking at the nearest houses before he turned, when a lady came round the corner and paused to avoid him, as he stood in the middle of the pavement. It was Miss Enderby herself. Her embarrassment was apparently not as great as his own. She smiled with friendliness; seemed indeed in a happier frame of mind than any in which Waymark had as yet seen her. But she did not offer her hand, and the other, having raised his hat, was almost on the point of passing on, when he overcame his diffidence and spoke. "I came here to try and discover where you lived, Miss Enderby." There was something grotesque in this abruptness; his tone only saved it from impertinence. The girl looked at him with frank surprise. "Pray don't misunderstand me," he went on hurriedly. "I wished, if possible, to--well, to tell you that I feared I acted thoughtlessly the other day; without regard, I mean, to any consequences it might have for yourself." "Rather I ought to thank you for defending me. It made no difference in the way you mean. It had already been decided that I should leave. I did not suit Mrs. Tootle." It was very pleasant to look down into her earnest face, and watch it as she spoke in this unrestrained way. She seemed so slight and frail, evidently thought so depreciatingly of herself, looked as though her life had in it so little joy, that Waymark had speedily assumed a confident attitude, and gazed at her as a man does at one whom he would gladly guard and cherish. "You were certainly unsuited for the work, in every way," he said, with a smile. "Your efforts were quite wasted there. Still, I am sorry you have left." "I am going into a family," were her next words, spoken almost cheerfully. "It is in the country, in Essex. There are only two children, quite young. I think I shall succeed better with them; I hope so." "Then I suppose," Waymark said, moving a little and keeping his eyes fixed on her with an uneasy look, "I shall--I must say good-bye to you, for the last time?" A scarcely heard "yes" fell from her lips. Her eyes were cast down. "I am going to make a bold request," Waymark exclaimed, with a sort of recklessness, though his voice expressed no less respect than hitherto. "Will you tell me where you are going to?" She told him, without looking up, and with a recurrence to the timid manner which had marked her in the schoolroom. This gave Waymark encouragement; his confidence grew as hers diminished. "Will you let me write to you--occasionally? Would you let me keep up our acquaintance in this way,--so that, if you return to London, I might look forward to meeting you again some time?" The girl answered timidly-- "I shall be glad to keep up our acquaintance. I shall be glad to hear from you." Then, at once feeling that she had gone too far, her confusion made her pale. Waymark held out his hand, as if to take leave. "Thank you very much," he said warmly. "I am very grateful."